


Breaking Point

by CrystallizedTears



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 05, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedTears/pseuds/CrystallizedTears
Summary: Clarke had spent six years living with just a child for company.For two weeks, she'd been surrounded by adults. For two weeks, she'd held it together – watching, listening, relearning how to be with people.For two weeks she'd put off the inevitable meltdown.





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> What is this show even doing to me.
> 
> Since we have to wait a little while, here's a fic of two events I sort of hope happen.

Clarke had spent six years living with just a child for company.

For two weeks, she'd been surrounded by adults. For two weeks, she'd held it together – watching, listening, relearning how to be with people.

For two weeks she'd put off the inevitable meltdown.

《》

It happened not long after they returned to Polis. Clarke busied herself with ensuring Madi was okay, helping to establish a safe zone for her. Octavia, in a moment of clarity and generosity, gave them a room at the end of an empty corridor to escape to when it all became too much.

But Madi wasn't the only one struggling with the sheer amount of people around.

Clarke managed to get through each day by retreating into the background, forgotten by most of Wonkru when they didn't need medical treatment or to be advised of the new world they'd come back to. If Octavia wasn't focused o n her, she hid in the shadows.

Sometimes her friends joined her. Bellamy, more than any others; Monty and Harper when Bellamy couldn't leave his current job.

Adult conversation was ... strange. Awkward. Stilted. Talking about travel routes, rations, medical supplies – that came easily. Talking about the past six years, or memories from before that without simplifying them for a child – that was where she faltered.

Surprisingly, Echo was the easiest person to speak to. The former spy seemed just as reluctant to talk about her past as Clarke was to recall any of it. In that way, they become an odd sort of friends in the week they're together before it all fell apart again.

All because Clarke found herself in the middle of a war council.

Miller proved himself still loyal, when able to escape from Octavia and Kara, warning Bellamy that the council was convening. Naturally, Bellamy brought Clarke with him to interrupt.

'Did you not see that you suffered enough, trying to cross through the last time?' Clarke asks, disbelieving when she saw the maps open on the table. 'You lost _eleven_ people in the sandstorm, and more were injured. Indra is still sick. Why would you risk that again?'

'My people deserve that valley.' Octavia's tone was firm, and around her, soldiers raised their guns. 'Whatever injuries get sustained on the way to the valley are worth securing the last green space on the planet.'

Bellamy, ever the protector, stepped to her side. Wisely, he remained silent.

'Is it worth it if you have no people left when you arrive there? Because that's will happen. Between the sandstorms, those worms and Diyoza, _no one_ will survive long enough to fight for the valley.'

The girl barely considered her words before dismissing them, turning back to her council. Clarke bristled, looking to the various maps spread out.

'When we reach the valley, we fan out. Surround the village. A team will go to the lake -'

'Octavia!' Her plan clicked, and horror spread through Clarke's body. 'You want to poison the water supply?'

Her shoulders tighten beneath the gaudy robe she wore, and around them, Wonkru nestled their guns against the shoulders more securely. Ready to fire on command.

'Are you questioning me?'

The words spoken in the sea bed haunted Clarke, and she froze, unable to formulate a response. To her side, Bellamy tightened his hand on his gun. Kept it low, but ready. His silence matched hers.

'I thought not.' Octavia waved a hand, and the soldiers lowered their guns again, but kept wary eyes on the pair. 'Once the water supply is gone, the prisoners will weaken and we can launch our attack. They will be dead by the next sunrise.'

No.

_No_.

'That water supply is the _only_ safe source of drinking water beside the Bunker, O. What's your plan for restoring it?' Bellamy rocked from one foot to the other, face tight as his sister turned her head far enough to see him.

She didn't even answer, turning back to her plans as Kara stepped forward. Clarke took a step back, feeling a pit form in the bottom of her stomach. _Was_ Octavia planning to restore the water supply?

Voices rose in the room, echoing against the metal walls and surrounding her. Bellamy's voice joined them for a moment, then abruptly silenced as one of the soldiers stepped forwards menacingly.

Too many voices. Too much sound.

Her head snapped back and forth, eyes jumping from one person to the next, never lingering long enough to take in who the people were. Just faces, a wall of unknown faces all speaking – no, they were shouting in her head – all at once.

Too much.

Her hands were against her head before she even knew she was moving them, eyes squeezed shut. Holding back a yell, she shook her head, trying to clear it, to push the voices away.

Voices she knew, voices she didn't; voices she recognised as her own screaming at her like they had those first few months entirely alone. Ones she'd only fully lost in those precious minutes on the radio each day.

A touch on her arm had her jolting, heart racing. Eyes wore, she barely saw Bellamy's look of concern before she was moving, backing towards the door and then out of the room entirely.

There were still too many people in the corridor. Too many voices, faces. In each face, she saw those she'd lost. Those she'd killed. All staring at her, eyes accusing.

'No,' she whispered, but the voices in her head drowned it out. 'No!'

Her footsteps echoed, mixed in with each insult her mind threw at her, chasing her as she turned corner after corner until finally, _finally_ , she found an empty corridor with empty rooms.

She hid herself inside one, slamming the door behind her as heat ran down her cheeks. Tears. Hot tears of loneliness, pain, agony, tears she'd kept hidden from Madi for more than five years finally welling above the surface.

Alone, she could finally let them out.

Alone yet surrounded by more than eight hundred people.

She slumped against the wall behind pipes, blocking the door from her blurred gaze. If she couldn't see the door, nobody could see her if they didn't step inside.

On the floor, knees tucked to her chest and face buried in her folded arms, she let the voices explode in her mind.

《》

She didn't even register Bellamy's presence beside her until sometime later, when his thumb brushed the skin of her neck. Raising her head, ignoring the strands of hair stuck to her cheek, she wasn't surprised to find him sat beside her, one arm around her back. His hand was gently stroking her shoulder in comfort.

He didn't say a word, just continued with his gentle ministrations as she slowly brought herself back under control. When she had enough, she shifted forward, breaking their contact.

Outside the door, she heard someone shuffle, but nobody dared to enter. Clarke focused her gaze on the small panel of glass. Whoever was out there wasn't in her line of sight. She was sort of grateful for that.

'You want to talk about it?'

Bellamy was soft, folding his hands across his lap and keeping his eyes forward as she looked back to him. He looked casual, resting against the wall, but she knew better. The voices in her head knew better.

She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, wishing she could hide behind her hair the way she used to, when she was young and insecure.

She let her eyes slide shut instead, a sigh escaping her lips. 'You ever feel like things just get too much?'

'All the time.'

She curled herself tighter, and as if by reflex, his arm came up, hand against her back. 'I was practically alone for six years. Going from two of us to eight hundred of us ...'

He started rubbing, subtle designs she felt even through the rough fabric of her jacket. Cracking her lids open slightly, she peered at him. He still wasn't looking at her, but his face showed his emotions clearly.

Pity, and guilt.

'Its not your fault,' she whispered, ignoring the break in her voice. 'You did what you had to do. You kept our friends alive. Leaving me behind was the best – the only – choice.'

He shook his head, fingers clenching momentarily against her back. 'It wasn't fair to you. Even with Madi ... I honestly don't know how you survived.'

Her heart seemed to pause, and she inhaled sharply. The voices in her head went quiet. She lifted her head, and he followed the movement by turning to face her.

She hadn't admitted it the last time he asked. Had kept the secret to herself. She should continue – he didn't need to know. It would just add to his guilt, another burden to carry on his shoulders.

'Clarke?'

_Tell him_ , one of the voices whispered, while another objected with curse words she barely remembered knowing. _Share your pain_.

_No_ , a third voice interjected, and she shuddered, squeezing her eyes closed again as if to fight them away. _Six years changes a man. He is not the Bellamy you knew._

'Stop,' she whispered, shaking her head. 'I don't want to hear it.'

Bellamy shuffled closer, and his warmth met her side. Real warmth. Not imagined. _Can you be sure he won't run from you?_

'Stop!'

'Hey, hey, Clarke, it's okay.' Bellamy's hand slid from her back to her shoulder, tucking her into his side in a way she wasn't familiar with. A way nobody had done in years. 'I'm here. You're okay.'

That was the problem. She fought back more tears, soaking in the comfort he offered. The words spilled from her lips before she could think to check them.

'You always were.'

It was a testament to how well he knows her, even after so long, that he didn't push her for more. More came anyway. 'The only reason I stayed sane long enough to find Madi, and then to raise her, was by talking to you. _You_ are what got me through, Bellamy.'

He squeezed her shoulder, and she buried her face back into her knees. The voices began to get louder, going from whispers to shouts and screams. She shuddered once more, one Bellamy helped her suppress with another squeeze.

There was sound beyond the door, and she jumped as a knock sounded. Bellamy cursed, sliding his arm away. As soon as he was clear, pushing himself to his feet, she buried her hands in her hair, staying bunched against the wall.

She couldn't stay here, she realised as Bellamy eased the door open. Here was too busy, too noisy. Too full of enemies.

For that was what Wonkru were. Enemies. A clan wanting to take down anyone they saw as too much of an outsider. A clan loyal only to their _Blodreina_ , who'd rather see heads on spikes than to listen to reason.

_Yes. Run, escape to silence again._

Yes. Yes, she would. She'd take Madi, run to Shallow Valley and take shelter in the very edges if she couldn't convince Diyoza that they wouldn't be a threat.

She could trade knowledge with Diyoza. Knowledge of the grounders, of the safe routes around the country, the foods to eat and how to catch animals. She could exchange that knowledge for a peaceful life, tucked away in her home – or at the very least, a quiet corner of Shallow Valley.

Maybe ... could she convince any of her friends? Those who didn't agree with Octavia?

_But that won't include Bellamy._

Some part of her hated the thought of losing him again. Her fingers tightened, pulling strands to their limit. The pain helped clear her thoughts, just a little, so she could see through the fog as Bellamy rejoined her.

'I can't stay here,' she said as he knelt before her, flask of water in hand. 'I can't do it. Not anymore.'

His smile was sad. 'I know.' He offered her the flask, and she shook her head. 'Where will you go?'

She released her hair, lowering her hands until she could meet his look properly. He didn't look mad, or upset. Just understanding. His expression was guarded, though. She thought she could see another emotion flitter through his eyes, but it was gone and locked away before she could question it.

_Tell him._

_Don't – he'll try to stop you._

_Or he'll come with you, and they'll use him to keep you in line._

Three voices battled inside her mind. She shook her head, trying to dislodge them; they only got louder. _Diyoza knows how important you are_ , one reminded her. _She will expect it to be the same the other way. She will use Bellamy as leverage, if he's there._

Another part of her mind spoke up, one she pushed down. _She could use you to draw him in._

She couldn't think like that.

'I don't know,' she finally answered, and Bellamy's eyes dropped. 'But I think it best if Madi has the option of coming with me.'

_Option?_

_Option. Madi can't be forced._

He nodded, acknowledging her. 'When?'

'Tonight.' It had to be soon. Clarke couldn't stay, but she also knew she couldn't leave until she got herself entirely under control.

'Tonight,' he agreed, and he straightened again. 'Do you want to be alone for a while?'

_No. Don't leave me again._

'Bellamy?'

'Yeah?'

She swallowed hard, then lifted her head to look up at him. 'Thank you. For keeping me alive.'

《》

The only thing Bellamy was concerned with, once Wonkru lowered their guns, was Clarke.

He had followed her moments after she all but ran from the war council, face panicked and strained, head held in her hands.

It was a pose he was all too familiar with. One Octavia had repeatedly taken in her childhood. One he had taken the first few days on the Ring. One Murphy took when he split from rest of the group.

The pose of one in the midst of a breakdown.

Clarke, ever strong and powerful, able to weather all but the harshest of storms – breaking down in the middle of a war council.

He'd followed her at a safe distance, briefly explaining to Harper when he nearly ran into her before following Clarke into a secluded room at the far end of the Bunker. When he'd opened the door and found her, curled up small and vulnerable, his heart had felt ready to tear into two.

Was this what she'd been like during the six long years? Had she suffered like this? Was this what it had done to her?

He'd fallen beside her, wrapping an arm around her carefully. She hadn't responded for a good fifteen minutes, until he slipped over the edge of her jacket.

Now, watching her as she reached for the flask, he felt the rock of guilt in his stomach as it grew once again. Why was she thanking him for keeping her alive? He was the reason she'd been left behind.

It might have been the best thing to save the rest of them, but as long as he lived, he would never be able to forgive himself for it. No matter what she said.

For her to thank him ...

'I didn't do anything,' he refuted as she swallowed. 'Your survival is all you, Clarke.'

She lowered the flask, wiping at the moisture left behind on her lips. He could see the battle behind her eyes, the torment she kept locked away. The one that had her pursing her lips slightly, eyes becoming lidded and a crease forming on her forehead.

She came to a decision, and her face relaxed again as she raised a hand to brush strands of her hair from where they'd stuck to tear tracks. 'You kept me sane. Talking to you everyday ... it was the only time I felt at peace.'

Talking to ...

_Everyday?_

He felt sick.

'You talked ... every day?'

If she'd used a radio, it would never have cleared the atmosphere. He'd never have been able to pick it up. But she'd spoken to him _every. Single. Day?_

Every day he acted with her in mind. Making decisions while trying to honour her sacrifice. Moving on with his life while still holding back that little part of him, that part that would forever be indebted to her for everything she'd done in their year on the ground.

And she'd spoken to him. _Every single day._

He couldn't form words as he stared down at her. At the miracle in front of him. He'd spent so long convinced she'd died, he wasn't sure he had truly acknowledged that she was still alive. He'd been so busy, freeing his sister and the rest of the those trapped in the Bunker and then following his sister across the desert to find their way to the valley.

He hadn't really stopped to let his emotions catch up to what his mind already knew.

And he couldn't now. Forcing down the lump rising in his throat, he made his way towards the door to give Clarke the space she needed.

He couldn't break down in front of her.

《》

Echo caught up to him an hour later, when he tossed a bag of supplies into the back of the Rover ready for Clarke's departure.

She rounded the Rover, a small bag of medical supplies slung over her shoulder. 'Monty sent it up,' she explained at his questioning look. 'Has Clarke said where she's going yet?'

'No.' He secured the first bag against the side of the Rover, and Echo lowered hers inside it beside him. 'I can guess, though.'

'Shallow Valley.' She nodded, as if she'd expected the answer. 'She's going to strike a deal with Diyoza.'

He had had that same thought. 'We have to trust she knows what she's doing.' He strapped the medical bag in next, as Echo leaned against the side of the vehicle. 'She survived six years on an irradiated planet. She has a better chance of surviving alongside Diyoza than any of us.'

'Bellamy.'

He knew that tone. With a sigh, he let his hands fall and turned to her. She was wearing her best no-nonsense expression, watching him with a deep sadness in her eyes. 'What did Clarke say?'

'Nothing that will change anything.' He reached a hand out, trying to grasp one of hers. She pulled back, just out of his reach.

'I'm not a fool, Bellamy.' She looked down, and he had to tighten his fist around the handle of the Rover door. 'What happened?'

He exhaled, turning so he could drop to sit on the back of the Rover. 'Clarke told me how she survived. Stayed sane.'

Echo came to stand in front of him, still staying just that little bit too far. He met her gaze. 'She radioed. Every day. That's how she didn't lose her mind.'

She nodded, and he knew that that sharp mind was racing to make connections he never would. 'You feel even more guilty for that.'

'Wouldn't you? If it were Roan, and you made the decision to leave him?'

'Are you really so oblivious?' She dropped to her knees, keeping his gaze but putting herself lower than him. 'Bellamy. Have you ever stopped to question _why_ you feel so guilty? Why it took you so long to come to terms with her death?'

He didn't _want_ to question. Questioning that would probably send him spiralling down a route he didn't want to consider until peace time. When things were calm, and he didn't have to worry about guns being shoved into their faces or sisters going rogue.

'You should go with her.' Echo stood again, giving him a small smile. 'She shouldn't go back into complete solitary. And if she does try to make a deal with Diyoza, she needs backup. You're the best person to provide that.'

'Echo –'

She shook her head, cutting him off. 'I told you. Things wouldn't be the same down here. This is what I meant, Bellamy. We were never going to last once we got back to the ground.'

'No.' He stood abruptly, reaching out for her. His fingers brushed the back of her hand as she backed away. ' _Nothing_ has to change, Echo.'

'Everything changed as soon as Madi came out of those woods. And it changed again when your sister emerged from the Bunker and joined another war.' She sighed, turning her back to him. 'Keep Clarke safe, Bellamy. She needs you now more than ever.'

He didn't have anything to say back to that.

Instead, he slumped back against the Rover and watched as she walked away. Away from them, and any future it may have had.

Why did it not feel as bad as he expected it to?


End file.
